


Dream Boy

by ohgodmyeyes



Series: Skylin [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Quest Series - Jude Watson
Genre: Anakin Skywalker is a Little Shit, Anal Sex, Begrudging Consent, But not quite, Dreams, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Hatesex, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Rare Pairings, Sex Dreams, Skylin, Sleep, Smut, Teenagers, Top Anakin Skywalker, technically underage i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27141016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgodmyeyes/pseuds/ohgodmyeyes
Summary: After catching Ferus staring at him one day in the archives, Anakin decides to meddle with his fellow Padawan at what may very well be the only time he displays any semblance of vulnerability.
Relationships: Ferus Olin/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Skylin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026016
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	Dream Boy

_"What's the matter, Ferus? Like what you see?"_

_"Of course I don't— now quiet yourself, Anakin. I can hardly hear my own thoughts."_

...

The boy was insufferable. He was careless and brash, and it seemed as though he scarcely ever took the time to think before speaking or acting. He was inordinately powerful, incredibly talented (unfairly so, for as little effort as he put into excelling), and treated far better by his Master than Ferus thought he deserved. 

He had also, somehow, transformed over the course of the past few years into the most beautiful young man anybody was likely to ever lay their eyes on— and yes, of course Ferus liked what he saw. Hell if he would ever have admitted it, though.

 _"Damnit,"_ Ferus cursed, as he rolled over onto his side. He was alone right now, alone in his bed; however, sleep on this particular night was not coming easily to him. Or, rather, it was— but it was being ceaselessly interrupted. Interrupted by _him._

It had been this way for weeks, really... since long before the cheeky little remark from Anakin in the archives which had no doubt exacerbated the problem. Sometimes the two of them would be standing before one another with their lightsabers drawn, and sometimes they would even duel. Those dreams weren't so bad; they didn't cause Ferus to sit bolt upright in a hot sweat with his own arousal shamefully plaguing him. The _other_ dreams, though...

Those dreams only served to frustrate him; vex him— upset him. Ferus hated to feel upset, because to feel upset with no recourse was a symptom of blatant immoderation.

Tonight, they'd been wrapped up in each other's arms; naked, too— entirely naked, lips pressed together and hands grabbing, caressing, _feeling._ Feeling everything. Ferus did not want to feel Anakin this way; didn't want to feel victimized by his own desires. He shouldn't _have_ desires, not ones like this. He was going to be a Jedi— he had no room for wanting, particularly not the kind of wanting that Anakin had begun to inspire in him. It was inexcusable.

Inexcusable, but present. Undeniably, unabashedly present.

He let his mind run for a moment, thinking that perhaps if he did it would run itself out; run itself into the ground. Then, he could sleep. He could allow his body to prepare itself for the day ahead of it; get the rest he needed, and forget about Anakin for as long as the boy would allow. (Of course, he never allowed it for very long.)

He closed his eyes, and let the thoughts come to him; thoughts of hard kisses, and discarded robes. Thoughts of clicking teeth, and blunt, dirty fingernails scraping down his back. Thoughts of those shoulders, that chest, that _ass._ He'd never seen Anakin undressed for more than a few moments at a time, but those moments had been all he had needed; all he'd needed to create an ostentatiously persistent image in his mind of that infuriatingly beautiful, naked boy. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Anakin didn't even seem to know he was handsome; in fact, he took it for granted the same way he took everything else as a given. It made Ferus angry, while at the same time making him throb.

How dare Anakin make him throb.

He cursed again, because his technique had proven ineffective. He was unclothed in his bed, as he always was, although right now he wished he wasn't. If he'd worn something to bed, it would have been easier; easier for him to cast away his misplaced attraction— easier for him to go soft and go to sleep and wake up the next morning having accomplished the feat of disregarding Anakin for another few hours. He wanted nothing more than to disregard him.

He couldn't, though; not tonight— and so against his own will; against his own typically principled integrity, he reached down beneath his sheets and began to stroke himself. He did so reluctantly; disdainfully. He was glad no one would ever have to know, because if anyone had known he was touching himself to thoughts of Anakin Skywalker, then he might as well have just gone ahead and died. His feral attraction to the younger boy made him want to crawl beneath a rock and never come out, such was his objection to Anakin's disposition. 

He moaned, which he hated; after that, the very tip of his engorgement started to leak onto his own stomach, which he hated even more. He squeezed tightly and started to pick up his pace, because he wanted this to be over; over as soon as possible. 

That was when he heard a voice... and not just _any_ voice.

"You lied to me," said Anakin, stepping out of the shadows. He wasn't dressed; why would he be dressed? He didn't need clothes for what he planned on doing tonight. 

"Get out of here!" Ferus cried, glad of the fact that his sheet was still pulled up. His shock, he thought, should have quelled his body's excitement; however, it didn't.

"I was right, wasn't I?" Anakin was smirking; Ferus hated his smirk. It was as intolerable as the rest of him. 

"I'm sure you think you were," Ferus started, "but—"

"You were dreaming about me again," Anakin said matter-of-factly, already having started to skulk up to the side of the bed to look down on the young man who purported to dislike him.

"I was not— I mean, my dreams are none of your—"

"Shh. Wouldn't you like them to come true? Wouldn't that make you _happy?"_ Anakin spoke coyly; demurely. It went with his smirk. He climbed up onto the end of the bed with his knees and started to crawl; he crawled until he was straddling Ferus, and the two of them were face-to-face. He could feel Ferus' shame poking up from under the sheet, brushing up against him. Anakin liked that he could make him feel this way.

Ferus should have shoved Anakin and he knew it; should have shoved him right off the bed and off of himself and onto the cold, hard floor. But he didn't. "Anakin," he said instead, "if you're the one who's been—"

"Of course it was me," grinned the younger of the two. "It's always been me." He'd been sneaking into Ferus' dreams for a while now; it wasn't a skill he'd mastered yet, but it was certainly one he'd been working at developing, for this precise purpose. "I see the way you look at me— _everyone_ sees it."

Surely that couldn't be true. Ferus disdained Anakin; disdained everything about him. "I don't know where you ever got the idea that—"

"Shut up," Anakin interrupted, and all of a sudden those lips and those teeth and that infuriating, constantly-wagging tongue were upon Ferus; probing, pressing, and clicking about just as they had been in the dream— _dreams_ — he'd tried so hard to will away. Could this merely have been one of those? Could it be that Ferus was still asleep, and that none of this was real? He'd have much preferred that, of course, but...

"Let's get this sheet off of you," Anakin said, after pulling away. He sat up high on his knees after that so he could remove the only thing between the two of them; the only thing stopping their bodies from pressing wantonly against one another. Once he'd shifted to discard the fluttering swath of white entirely to the floor, he crawled back down the bed a bit. After flashing Ferus an antagonizingly lovely grin, he enveloped the source of the older boy's frustration with his mouth. 

"Anakin!" shouted Ferus, but he didn't move— didn't kick or recoil or roll away.

 _"What?"_ asked Anakin, through his mouthful of cock. 

He didn't get an answer to that, so instead he went to work. He bobbed and licked, and swallowed at the tip as he forced his mouth down as far as he could make it go. He swirled his tongue around Ferus' head when he came up, and let his teeth clip his shaft as he went back down. He had been hard and wet since before Ferus had noticed his presence, and this only intensified his enthusiasm: He could feel himself thrumming and pulsing, and dripping eagerly onto the bed. 

Ferus had never liked him; had always resented him. It was all pure jealousy, Anakin thought, of his power; his skill. Some of the other Padawans feared him, but Ferus had never seemed fearful— just willfully and unrelentingly indignant. Anakin wasn't much more fond of the older boy than the older boy was of him; however, even he had to acknowledge that both his appearance and lofty sense of utter superiority were strangely entrancing.

Besides that, he couldn't think of a better way to get under Ferus' skin than to force him to acknowledge that he wanted this. 

Soon he became certain of the fact that Ferus was not too far from losing control of himself; from letting this end altogether too soon. He didn't want that, and besides, he hadn't had his own turn yet: He hadn't come here for the sole purpose of sucking on Ferus' dick. That would have been boring.

"Not yet," Anakin scolded, and he pulled his head back, exposing his rival to the room's cool air. That made Ferus shout again, and buck his hips. "You love this, don't you?" Anakin teased, pumping himself with his hand as he sat back up on his knees. He'd slicked his own cock generously after undressing, prior to Ferus' having woken to those unwanted thoughts of his. He was more than ready to take what he'd actually come for. 

Ferus was starting to feel frightened, but not of Anakin— no, he was frightened of _himself._ Anakin was right; he did like this. He liked it very much, to the point where those lips pulling away from his cock had upset him perhaps more than his dreams had in the first place. He wanted to come, and he wanted Anakin to make him do it.

He hated himself for feeling that way, but it was what it was.

"What are you going to do, Anakin?" he asked, staring up at that body he'd already fantasized about more times than he cared to count.

"I'm going to fuck you, Ferus— would you like me to fuck you?"

At those words, Ferus felt himself pulse. In lieu of answering, he adjusted his body; pulled his knees up beside his ears. He felt like screaming, crying, and going off all at the same time. Everything about this was emblematic of the exact lack of restraint he loathed. 

"Someone's eager, aren't they?" chuckled Anakin, venturing to tease Ferus' hole with one of his fingers, to which the older boy let out a desperate whimper. "You hate me for being right all the time— do you hate me for being right about this, too?" At that he gripped himself by the very base of his cock, and leaned in closely to prod at Ferus with his erection. 

Now that they were nearly nose-to-nose, Ferus found it in himself to growl, _"You're damn right I do."_

That made Anakin laugh again, and finally begin to ease himself inside. He went slowly; he had no desire to actually hurt Ferus— he was, essentially, just here to make a point.

Once he was buried up to his sack, he took a deep and shuddering breath, because while he'd always called Ferus a tightass behind his back, he'd never known just how accurate the descriptor actually was. "You feel like heaven," he breathed, and then he started to buck his hips. 

Ferus wanted to cry out; indeed, his instinct was to shout, but he didn't want to give Anakin that kind of satisfaction. Instead, he clenched his jaw and pursed his lips and stared upward as he felt himself be ravaged from the inside. It felt incredible; better than his own fingers, and better than anything he'd ever slipped into his pocket to play with in what should have been the privacy of his own room. 

"Touch yourself," commanded Anakin. He knew Ferus wanted to.

"This is in direct violation of—"

 _"Shut up,"_ Anakin demanded once again, this time with a particularly hard thrust. Ferus obeyed; stopped talking, and reached between the two of them to start to stroke himself just as he'd been doing beneath the sheets, before he'd registered Anakin's presence. How the hell had the boy hidden from him in the first place, anyway? He supposed that was a question for another time. 

They went on like this for as long as they both could bear it; soon, Anakin felt his own climax coming on. He bit down on his lip, moaned through his teeth, and burst heartily; more heartily than he ever had when he'd been alone, in his own bed. He looked straight into Ferus' eyes as he did; saw them squeeze shut as he, too, reached his own shuddering peak. 

_"Anakin,"_ Ferus growled, as he felt his own essence shoot all over the smooth, taut skin on his stomach. 

_"Ferus,"_ Anakin cooed, revelling in the sound of his own name as he leaned in more closely to steal another kiss.

Their tongues danced as they each finished; finally, Anakin withdrew his cock, but he didn't quit probing Ferus' mouth. Simply put, it felt far too good to stop right away. Eventually, of course, he had to; he was very nearly out of breath. Ferus, for his part, had only just realized that he was holding his. 

As they separated, Anakin sat back up on his knees, perhaps a bit unsteadily. He noticed Ferus scowling, and so he asked with a broad grin, "What's wrong? Don't you like it when your dreams come true?" 

"Not _this_ dream," Ferus barked, and he finally hoisted himself up from between Anakin's knees and into a seated position. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to shove Anakin away as he ought to have when this debacle had initiated itself; however, there wouldn't have been any point in doing that: He'd already had nearly every ounce of his control over himself wrenched away; he wasn't about to concede his anger, and give up the rest of it. Then he'd be no better than Anakin. 

As it turned out, though, he didn't have to do anything— before he could think of what to say next, his intruder had jumped off of his bed and gone back to that darkened corner from which he'd first come into view. His clothes, apparently, had been sitting there in a pile; Ferus watched as he started to put them back on. 

"What you just did was inexcusable," he said, with as much dignity as he could possibly muster.

"You mean what _we_ just did," retorted Anakin, as he adjusted his robes and smoothed his pants.

Ferus clenched his fists, but didn't say another word as Anakin laughed at him one more time, turned, and sauntered casually out of the room; back to his own quarters, and to his own bed. He would certainly sleep well that night— not only did he feel more physically satisfied than he perhaps ever had, but Anakin also simply loved being proven right.

Ferus would rest soundly, too. In spite of his anger, and in spite of everything that had just happened (seemingly in the blink of an eye), he finally felt relieved; palliated— for tonight, at least, he knew he would be free of his dreams... _those_ dreams.

Even so, as he listened to Anakin's footsteps disappear down the corridor, his disquieting words from the archives echoed in Ferus’ mind: _"What's the matter, Ferus? Like what you see?"_

He feared he'd never again be able to convincingly deny that he did.

**Author's Note:**

> I day-drank some Pabst Blue Ribbon and this spewed out of me instead of vomit. Lucky me. Lucky you? Maybe.
> 
> This was written primarily for someone who wanted it, and while I was initially in doubt about the ship, I pretty much am obsessed with it now. Thanks, person.


End file.
